Domination

I shook my head. It wouldn’t do for Paul Everest to show he was not every bit as good a Top as the man from whom he’d learned it all, whose slave I’d been for more than three years.

I thought I’d grown to love Tarquin Charlton, the man and his demands, both sexual and intellectual, his imposing manner and his elegant life-style. Hell, I was nearly as tall as his 6’ 2”, almost as well built as he [after all that time I’d spent exercising]. I was certainly as well-endowed [we’d measured each other’s cocks once, 7.5” each, his thicker than mine] and I was nearly ten years younger.

Well, I couldn’t just stand there staring at him.

“Tim, Bruno, get over here and take hold of our latest candidate who is begging for boy slavery. You better dry him off first. Then, I want him got ready for fucking. He’ll need to be clipped and shaved. Leave his head to me. When he’s ready, fasten him in the sling. I want a vibrating dildo in him. I don’t think he’s ever been penetrated. If he has, it’s so long ago his ass has forgotten what it feels like.”

I was proud of the progress I’d made myself over the past twenty months, having made up my mind to “graduate” from bottom to Top. I practiced all the moves that I had observed from each of my previous Masters.

Soon, I found myself training not one, but two boys. To me, they were ‘boys’ rather than ‘slaves’, since I couldn’t keep either with me 24/7. I had my profession, in graphics design, to rebuild.

Tim had come to me through my pal Walt, who had moved up from barman to manager to owner of the LA leather bar I frequented. The boy was tall, blond, and lanky; he came with experience. I trained him further, with a combination of heavy stick and juicy reward. I didn’t feel that his heart was really into servitude. Bruno, on the other hand, was a natural. He was dark, compact, intense. He wore his piercings with pride. The tusk he wore through his septum was not an everyday sight in Los Angeles.

My boys were well trained. I’d been well schooled by my previous Master and passed on the lessons when I moved into Topping.  They pulled the bedraggled Tarquin inside and rapidly rubbed his muscular frame dry. He looked almost as good as he had the time we’d lived together - fit, bronzed, with that blond Aryan coloring and those strange dark eyes.

Oh, I’d talked to him briefly that afternoon at the run, telling my former Master to stay away from me. That was our first conversation since the terrible night in Palm Springs two years before, when he’d tried to break me on that wretched St. Andrew’s cross. I’d finally left him with Joe, the half-trained sub he’d brought into our lives, and I’d fled back to Los Angeles.

After that first taste of freedom, I’d felt betrayed, lost, heart-broken, and lonely. I had been in my late-twenties when Tarquin had selected me for training. His training had been harsh and relentless; still, over our three years, I had evolved into a faithful, healthy, and responsive slave. It was he who’d smashed our relationship. Now almost two years later, he wanted back into my life -- in a much different capacity.

“Have you got him well restrained in the sling, Tim?” I called over to the older of my boys. “Watch how you use the clippers on his bush, Bruno, he’s never been shaved, I’m sure. I want his chest shaved smooth for me too.”

I looked over at my one-time Master lying passively in restraints. I remembered his powerful domination for a moment, but shook the thought away. “How are you guys doing?” I was ready to move forward with, what I told myself, was nobody but a needy candidate,

“Sir, I’ve trimmed all the hair around his cock and balls and I’ve almost finished the follow-up shave. Man, you were right, sir,” Bruno added. “All that blond hair, he really has never been shaved there before. Great bod too. Who is he, Sir?”

“Just someone I used to know very well. It seems he now wants to become one of my boys. What about the dildo, Tim? Is he riding it?”

“Sir, yes, sir. Sir is right about a narrow passage. I could hardly get two fingers up there at first. I really had to work to get him opened up, He didn’t seem to know what to do. His ass hasn’t been used in years, if ever. From the way he reacts, he doesn’t seem to have much anal experience. I lubed him up good and he’s got that medium rubber vibrator, with the wide base up him and I’ve got it turned up high. He’s wriggling good.” Tim boasted.

“OK.” I was ready to proceed. “Get a gag and hood on him.”

Tarquin had said nothing more. He just lay there, leather restraints on arms and legs stretching him in the black sling and those big obsidian eyes gazing at me. What was he thinking? What had led to this outrageous request, so out of character? I told him to stay away from me in no uncertain terms, earlier in the day. What really had brought him back now?

His cock and balls looked magnificent. They were now standing out naked and aroused. The precum was already evident. He had the physical potential to make a terrific mature slave. All those years of working out with  trainers.  Was that what he really wanted? His body was trembling slightly in his restraints, as the vibrator twisted in his narrow chute, but his face showed little or no emotion. That was why he was so successful as an entertainment lawyer.

Why should I still feel intimidated by him? Not only was I doing well as a Top; my professional career as a graphic artist had taken off as well. Some of my designs had been picked up by an international advertising agency. They invited me to New York. There was a European client who apparently liked my style. Now there was talk of a possible London trip.

A year ago, my boy Tim had helped me to rehab a fixer-upper house that we found in Pasadena. Whatever he lacked in servitude qualities, he more than made up with his carpentry and cabinet-making skills.

All had seemed well in my world. As reward, I was treating the three of us to this long weekend of BDSM in the country. I’d already enjoyed putting Bruno through his paces. He willingly subjected himself to being stretched tightly to the wheel and dragged through a few inches of water, naked and wearing chains, which linked his tit rings to his excited and pulsating prick. I allowed him to cum while mounted on the wheel. Afterwards, he knelt at my booted feet, slobbering over my old Wescos and up onto my own protruding pole. It had been a relaxing and enjoyable afternoon until the weather turned stormy. It was then that Tarquin appeared, asking to revive our old relationship.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, as I walked out to the front of the tent. There were still plenty of sounds of celebration and muffled cries of pain around us.

“Tim, Bruno,” I turned around to look at the deserving boys. “Why don’t you take off for an hour or so. Go and find some other subs to play with. The rain seems to have stopped.”

“Yes, thank you, sir.” Bruno hesitated, “Do you still need some help with this new one?”

“What the fuck do you think he’s going to do all tied up and hooded?” I am sure I came off as annoyed at his question. “If I can manage you two, I think I can fuck this piece of raw meat without your help.”

“Thank you, boss.” Chastised, Bruno had his head lowered toward the ground, “We’ll see you back at the cabin.”

Off they scampered in their leather jocks, collars and work boots, pleased to be let loose for a couple of hours. I turned back to my former Master. There he was, lying silent and starkly exposed in my sling. His naked and shaved body shone in the faint light. My dick began to rise and thump in anticipation.

“Tarquin? boy? What the fuck should I call you? I don’t know why you’re doing this, or what you want from me. I’m sure you know what to expect. You taught me that the first thing a Top must do to his property is to thoroughly fuck him, to imprint him as soon as possible with my own semen. So, I’m going to turn up the dildo in your ass and force it in further. Then we can get down to basics.”